


Like a Painted Canvas

by Listentothelittlebird



Series: Code Bat [12]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Damian Wayne Has Feelings, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is a traumatised CHILD, Gen, Jason Todd is a good brother, Maya Ducard goes big sister, Mentions of a massacre (the dragon-bats), Not Canon Compliant, Year of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listentothelittlebird/pseuds/Listentothelittlebird
Summary: Damian has been revived.In the wake of his resurrection, he reflects on his past... and leaves Gotham. There are things to be done - mistakes that Damian needs to atone for.(This fic takes inspiration from Robin: Son of Batman, Year of Blood, but does not follow through with proper canon.)Rated T for descriptions of murdered skeletons, I guess
Relationships: Goliath & Damian Wayne, Maya Ducard & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Code Bat [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964452
Comments: 54
Kudos: 501





	1. Leaving Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> Do you need to know about the story plot being referenced? Well, I personally don’t think so. 
> 
> Basically, from the digging I’ve done, I gather that Damian did some nasty things (murder and theft) during his Year of Blood, which was a rite of passage in the League of Assassins. Damian’s Year of Blood was facilitated by Talia, his mother. 
> 
> Maya and Goliath are characters from that series, but you don’t need to know much other than Maya is also a child raised to be an assassin, and Goliath is a big red dragon-bat. Yeah, I don’t know either.
> 
> Enjoy!

Being legally dead meant that Damian Wayne had no need to make any public appearances. It also meant that he was out of school - for however long he remained dead, anyway. 

Todd was more than happy to show Damian how to obtain fake licenses and identifications for various things, from a driver’s license to paperwork that allowed him an alias for undercover work. Not that he had no knowledge of such things, but Todd had been living as a legally dead person for years, so it was worth paying attention to his tips. 

Damian had a lot of time to himself. Most of that time was spent being stuck in the Manor. That was fine when he first returned from the dead, when he had powers he had to get used to. It was also fine when he realised that his powers were temporary, when he had to adjust to being normal once more.

After all that had settled, though, when all that was left were home-schooling lessons (Pennyworth insisted on continuing his education) and nightly patrols, being in the same place constantly became suffocating, stifling, especially with the aching absence of his eldest brother. No amount of hobbies or cases could hide the fact that he missed Grayson’s visits to the Manor. 

Not an absence caused by death, thank goodness for that - but Grayson’s current mission was shaping up to be much longer than Damian would have preferred.

One day, out as Robin with Batman, he caught sight of an old collector’s art piece on the wall. It was a dragon-bat, blood red, soaring high in the sky.

Damian did not sleep that night. He was afraid of dreaming, of a year of memories spent doing Talia’s bidding. His Year of Blood.

“I need to leave,” Damian declared in the morning, to his brothers and to his father, “I have… there are things that I need to do. Things that I should have done a long time ago.”

Father looked Damian in the eye, and Damian expected rejection. What he got instead was an understanding nod. “Name what you need,” Father stated, “And when you’ll be leaving.”

One week later, the Bats were gathered in the Batcave to send their youngest off. 

“One identity for a David Fletcher,” Drake handed the paperwork over in a neatly arranged file, “I did my best to make sure nobody is able to tell that it’s an alias. It should hold strong.”

Damian hesitated for a moment, before huffing and looking up, “Thank you, Drake.”

Drake met his eye and gave a brief but genuine smile. “Take care out there, kid.”

Brown handed Damian a white mask which completely covered his face. The only feature on the mask was that it had two small lenses for his eyes. “There’s a built-in voice modulator, and all the features of a Bat-issued mask - infra-red, scanner, all that jazz,” Brown shrugged, “Cass and I thought you might like it. Babs helped, too.”

The mask fitted perfectly. “I… thanks. Tell that to Cain and Gordon, as well.”

Todd grinned and gave Damian a noogie before he could escape. Damian scowled up at the man, his expression flitting to confusion as he was handed a wrapped package. It was the weight of clothing, but sturdier than just mere cotton. 

“Don’t want to overwhelm you too much right before you’re supposed to leave,” Todd chuckled at Damian’s indignant glare, “Besides, this isn’t the kind of thing you’d wear for civilian outfits.” That meant it was… a new suit?

“I’ll open it when I have the time, then. I appreciate your sentiment, Todd.” Damian noted that Todd’s stance relaxed minutely. He was nervous about the gift, then, whatever it was.

Father stepped forward next. Damian hesitated for a split second before meeting his eye. He wondered with slight nerves what his Father would give him, or what kind of words he would part with. Pennyworth was handing over a box to Father, who then kneeled so that he was at Damian’s eye level. The box was resting in his arms. 

“Dick was working on this before you died,” Father admitted. He opened the box even as the words processed, and Damian risked a glance down. 

It was a pair of escrima sticks. Instead of the black that usually accompanied Nightwing’s costumes, this pair was a stark white. “Dick told me to finish it for him, and give it to you,” Father was murmuring, “I simply followed what Dick had already planned out.”

Even when Grayson was not physically present, he still seemed to find a way to surprise him.

Damian tentatively removed the escrima sticks from their casing. He remembered that Grayson had been conducting escrima lessons with him… he had thought them to be one of his many excuses to spend time with him. Perhaps that was how they had started, but Grayson had obviously been waiting to present these to him, on what he guessed would have been his birthday.

“Press the button,” Father gestured to what was normally Grayson’s activation switch for his electrical adjustments. Instead of that, Damian’s switch caused sharp blades to peek out from both escrimas, one on each stick. Grayson had specially designed this for him.

Damian retracted the blades and tucked away the escrimas. Slowly, giving Damian time to refuse, Father wrapped his arms around Damian. This time, because it might be more than a year before he next saw his father, Damian allowed it, even wrapping his own arms around his father’s much bulkier frame.

“Use Code Bat if you need us,” Father instructed softly, “No matter where you are in the world, we will come for you.”

“I know,” Damian stated, and he meant it.

Later, when he had taken flight with Goliath the dragon-bat, when they had settled in the wilderness for the night, Damian opened Todd’s package.

The package contained a hooded robe, folded neatly by Pennyworth's hand. Damian noted even in the dim lighting of the campfire that the robes were a pristine white. The material was similar to that of the Bats’ capes, but sturdier, thicker. 

There was a note, written in Todd’s cursive hand.

_A gap year from being Robin. The others might think you just need a break, but I heard about Talia’s plans for the Year of Blood, back when I trained with her. I convinced everyone to leave you alone for this trip - I know you need to do this by yourself._

_What you did is not your fault. That you feel guilty enough to make this trip alone is a sign of that. There may be blood on your hands, but your heart is pure, kid. Your Jedi-esque gift is supposed to remind you of that. White is for purity and goodness. You ARE good, and you’ve already come so far, so don’t let anyone say otherwise._

_You can continue wearing your black body armour, I get it if you don’t think what I wrote above is true. That won’t stop me from trying to get the facts through your head, though._

_Once you step out of Gotham, you’re a blank canvas. You’re free to do what you want, be the person you want yourself to be. You’re the painter, not B, not Talia, not anyone. Your life is in your hands, now._

_Stay safe. JT_

Damian read the note, re-read it a second time, and flopped onto his back with a deep sigh. His hand clasped around one of his escrima sticks. The family had obviously coordinated the colour choice. It was a silent message from all of them, of what they thought of him.

Damian wore both the white robe and white mask on his first mission of atonement.


	2. Where Dragons Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian was not looking forward to this.
> 
> He knew he had slain all of the dragon-bats - it was something he knew logically, as a fact. Seeing the aftermath, however, was entirely different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we need spoiler warnings on fanfics? Uhm... oops?
> 
> I have no idea whether there’s actually anything like this in the comics, but this is how I would want it to go down, in my happy little alternate universe where the Bats actually emote and stuff
> 
> This is the angst chapter, be warned - aka Damian actually expresses emotions. He gets comforted next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Damian had been dreading this part of his atonement.

“Ducard,” Damian voiced, his words coming out through the voice modulator at a pitch similar to Batman’s, “You are to stay with Goliath for today’s mission. I do not wish to have any chaperons for today.”

Clutched in his hands was what was known as the sceptre of the kings.

Maya Ducard glared in annoyance at him. Her hand twitched as if to rip his blank mask off his face, or perhaps to flick his hood off his head, as she had grown the habit of doing. 

“Seriously?” Ducard growled, “We’re not your chaperons, ‘David’.” 

Ducard had suspected early on that the name Damian had given her was not real, despite the paperwork that would have proven otherwise to anyone else. At this point, Damian was accustomed to hearing the emphasised tone that suggested air quotes being placed around his alias.

Damian had to admit that Ducard was proving to be a reliable and capable asset. He also silently confessed to himself that their similar upbringings, and corrupted world perspectives as a result, made him able to relate to her that much more.

He was still not ready for her to accompany him into the ruins of one of his major regrets.

“You are staying,” Damian snapped sharply, “Along with Goliath. Both of you will not accompany me today, and that is final.”

Something in Damian’s tone must have sounded like _something_ , because after a brief staredown Ducard huffed and plopped back onto the grass, propping herself up against Goliath’s side.

“What the hell is this part of your mission that you have to force us to stay behind?” Ducard grumbled, patting Goliath’s head even as the behemoth whined childishly in Damian’s direction. 

Damian withheld a flinch, and tried to subtly avoid making direct eye contact with the dragon-bat.

Damian did not offer Ducard a response, instead choosing to walk away. He hoped that she had not noticed his hurried pace - he could feel her gaze watching his back.

The moment that he was out of their sights, Damian slowed down. His hand gripped the sceptre tight enough to break. Maybe if it did break right now, he mused, he would not need to enter into the chamber it had come from.

Damian trudged silently into the ruins that had been imprinted into his memory, retracing the steps that his younger self had taken. The ruins were just that - ruins. Moss covered over most of the stone structures, and most of the architecture had crumbled over the years of abandon. 

Damian vividly remembered the flutter of numerous wings, the shrill cries of beings in the dark. 

He had been trained for the darkness, to fight without sight to guide him, but when his torch had flared and lit up the room, and he had come face to face with the first of the beasts, he had been momentarily stunned.

Then he had remembered his mission, drawn his sword, and began swinging.

Damian’s foot caught on something, and he nearly stumbled. He had yet to light his improvised torch - he remembered where the sceptre belonged, even without the flame to guide him. The sunlight peeking through the cracks in the walls and ceiling were enough.

The sceptre still fit on its dilapidated pedestal. Damian turned back the way he came, removed his mask and breathed the stale air, before finally setting his torch ablaze.

His next breath hitched in his throat.

_Imbecile. What else did you expect?_

The flame was more than enough for him to take in the gleaming bones littered across the large hall. They were large skeletons - massive rib-cages that had started to blend into the earth, shrubbery and creepers snaking their way around the white cartilages. On either side of the rib-cages were their massive wings, thick arms that had thinner branches spreading outwards.

Some of the skeletons were missing their heads. The skulls were a short distance away, unmoving since the moment that they fell.

The rational part of his brain was telling him to make his way out, to get away as soon as he could, but something rooted him to the spot. The part of him that was still a child, still a young mind adjusting to the world, focused with horrified intensity on the skeletons, on the clear breakages on some of their bones, on the cleanly severed skulls. On the varying sizes of the skeletons. Some of them looked no bigger than Damian himself.

It was a twisted blessing that the events had occurred so long ago that the only thing which remained were their bones.

Damian listened intently for a moment, desperate to hear some semblance of life, to have it confirmed that he had not truly swept through the whole ruins, that he had not gotten to them all.

The silence answered him back. 

_I did this. I did all of this._

Damian crumbled.

Damian almost did not recognise the hiccuping sobs that bubbled out of him. The sounds reminded him of a young child, confused and too young to truly comprehend their emotions. In that moment, Damian felt anything but young. Young people were not burdened with the immense regret that he felt, and he knew exactly what he had done.

He fell to his knees, barely keeping a hold on his torch as he tumbled into uncontrollable tears. He let out a long, anguished wail.

Damian did not know how much time had passed before his tears had dried and he was able to stand again. All he knew was that his torch had gone out a long time ago, and that the sunlight seeping into the room had begun to dim. 

Try as he might, he still picked out the scattered remains of the first deaths as he strided stiffly out of the ruins. 

His assortment of bladed weapons were still clean, but it felt like he had killed them, all over again. Damian counted it fortunate that he had left his sword in Gotham - if he were holding the same weapon as before, standing in that place…

Damian shuddered minutely. On the outside, he steeled himself, and dusted off the dirt from his robe. 

Ducard was pacing when Damian returned. “Dave! Finally, what took you so long?” Ducard exclaimed, her hands on her hips, her face furious. Damian ignored her and strided up to Goliath. He hesitated for a moment too long before climbing onto Goliath’s back.

“Are you… injured?” Ducard questioned, even though her tone was already doubtful. She climbed back onto Goliath as well, and the moment that she did, Damian directed Goliath into taking off. 

Ducard continued to poke at Damian, trying to elicit a response from him, but eventually she gave up. Damian was too wrapped up in his own mind to pay attention to the words that were quickly lost to the wind. 

He looked down at Goliath, thought back to the chamber full of bones, and broke all over again.


	3. A Healing Fledgeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya deals with the aftermath of Damian’s emotional breakdown.
> 
> (Maya refers to Damian as ‘David’ throughout this chapter.)
> 
> Somewhat comfort.
> 
> Enjoy!

Maya Ducard had grown used to her traveling companion’s silences. In fact, she thought she had started to garner a fairly extensive vocabulary on “David’s” (she just knew it was not his real name, even if he had never verbally confirmed that) different silences and their accompanying meanings. 

There were brooding silences, angry silences, contemplative silences, and on the odd occasion that something went right, a happy, satisfied silence.

This silence, however, was a new one. It was not silence per se, given that every few moments she could hear muffled sniffling from under the boy’s blank mask, a sound even the wind could not tear away.

Maya suspected that David was younger than her. He tried to use his voice modulator constantly, but on the days when they were forced to drop their fighting gear and blend into society, his voice was pitched shrill and young, meaning he had yet to even be a teenager. At best, he was in his tweens.

Yet the boy still managed to have a better moral compass than Maya herself - he was the reason she was straying from her father’s ways, and rebelling against everything from her upbringing.

Maya looked back to David and cringed at her own inner monologue. It was obvious that David had suffered much more than her despite having lived a shorter life, and had done much worse than what her short career as the second Nobody had put her through. 

They were on this world tour because of David’s past mistakes, after all.

David still had yet to speak, since he had exited the ruins “where he had met Goliath”. He refused to elaborate further. Maya remembered the way that he had stiffened, when Maya had asked him if Goliath had any relatives a while back. His reaction did not bode well for what this new silence meant.

Goliath landed for the night, next to a cave. David jumped off Goliath’s back like he was hopping on hot coals, nearly sprinting into the cave’s confinements. Goliath warbled worriedly, wide eyes blinking at where its master had disappeared to. 

Maya patted Goliath’s back. “Give him some time,” Maya whispered, “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

David slept in the cave, despite the night being perfect for outdoor camping. The first sign that things might not be that great. The second sign was when Maya awoke first - David had yet to emerge from the cave.

Maya frowned, and ventured inside. The first thing that registered was how cold the cave was - the second thing that registered were the soft sobs coming from a curled up form. The white robe that was still wrapped around him was very distinguishable from the cavern floor. 

“Dave?” Maya whispered, trying not to startle the boy. He looked like he was having a complete breakdown, his back facing towards her, face angled at the wall of the cave. She had no idea whether his shaking was from crying or from the cold, and that made her all the more concerned.

“David!” 

He jerked even before she had finished his name, and he swivelled around, back pressed against the cave, his weirdly terrifying pair of blade-on-a-sticks out and in his hands, and - oh.

David had removed his mask, and he had yet to put on his sunglasses. 

Maya averted her gaze, out of respect for the boy’s privacy, she guessed. He did so much to hide his identity, it seemed wrong to just… accidentally see his face. Especially in the state that he was in. 

“David,” she spoke softly, “It’s Maya. Or, Ducard, I guess. It’s just me. Goliath and I are worried.”

David lowered his weapons, and seemed to come back to himself with a jolt, one hand raising to his unmasked face. He scrambled to put on his mask, but not before rubbing furiously at his eyes. He had been crying.

There was a moment’s pause when Maya slowly sat down across from David, and David himself was gasping, trying to get his breathing under control. The cave eventually descended into a tense silence, broken only by Goliath’s stomping just outside the cave.

“I killed them.”

The whisper was amplified by the echoing walls of the cave. David’s voice was deepened by the voice modulator, and that coupled with the small frame of a young boy was a mismatched combination to the words that had tumbled out of his mouth. David was holding himself like a retired assassin would, the people her father would invite to their home. Ceaselessly badgering them to work with him again.

“The dragon-bats were the protectors of the sceptre of the kings that my… that I was told to obtain. I slayed generations of them, all because they had stood in my way.” David turned towards the entrance of the cave, and if Maya could see his expression, she would imagine turmoil and despair clearly visible, stoic demeanours be damned.

“Goliath is the last of his kind. And it’s all my fault.”

Maya sucked in a deep breath. David curled into himself, as if he expected her to abandon him or something because of his admission. 

Well, to hell with common sense. She had abandoned that when she went to take revenge on this young boy. 

“You were ordered to take this… sceptre thing?” Maya clarified.

“The sceptre of the kings, and yes. It was just another mission,” David replied bitterly.

“Then you’re no more at fault for what happened there than everything else you’ve been atoning for.”

David’s head snapped up, and Maya got the feeling that he was staring at her. Maya did her best to meet his gaze through the white mask, “You and I both grew up in homes that trained us to be assassins. It was all that we ever knew. You’ve shown me in this trip around the globe that our upbringing does not need to dictate our life choices. That same lesson applies to you, too.”

David’s arms wrapped around himself in a rare display of vulnerability. “That does not make it better,” he whispered brokenly, “That does not mean we can undo everything. I have been returning what I have stolen, but the lives that I took? The deaths which happened along the way? That, I cannot reverse.”

“But you can move forward.” Maya hoped that her conviction was reflected in her eyes as much as in her voice, “The two of us? We’re still kids. We’ve still got a lot of time to grow and change. You’re already changing for the better, David.”

David fell into a brooding silence, then, and Maya was relieved that he had stopped his self-loathing. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and he seemed centered after that.

“It’s already morning. We should get going.” It was a blatant shift in topics, but Maya knew that he needed it. The kid had reached his emotional capacity in the last two days.

“Ugh, I hate that you skip a big breakfast,” Maya groaned. She had grown used to eating their rations on dragon-bat back, but it was still an experience and a half. She turned to head out of the cave.

“Maya.”

Now, that was something. She had always been Ducard. Maya faced David curiously. The boy shuffled briefly, before blurting, “David is not my real name, as I suspect you already know. My name does indeed start with a ‘D’, though.”

Maya blinked, before her face split into a wide grin. If that was not a show of trust, well, damn.

“I’ll be calling you D from now on, then,” Maya stated smugly, “It’s one step closer to being accurate, at the least.”

David tipped his head in what Maya had come to learn was an eye-roll, accompanied by a soft clicking of his tongue. “Tt. Whatever you say, Ducard.” 

Maya had a feeling he was smiling underneath his mask, if the relaxing of his stance and shaky but content silence that followed was any indication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David Fletcher, David to match with Goliath and Fletcher because:
> 
> Fletcher sounds like Fledgeling (vaguely, because I’m a sucker who thinks of Fletchling the pokemon), which refers to young birds/bats. Yes, both.


	4. Dyed Robe, Painted Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian’s Year of Atonement is complete.
> 
> Maya takes him out to the city before they part ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an urge to say “David Cage, you’ve done it again.” even though I’m the one who did the really cheesy metaphor
> 
> I also don’t know how dyeing things actually works - so like, just pretend what Damian does is legit

David’s quest for atonement was complete. 

They had parted ways with Suren Darga earlier in the day. David had somehow whipped up a fake identification that would get him practically anywhere - so long as he casted a disguise on himself that made him look older - and he and Maya had sent him off with their well wishes.

“I want to explore the world by myself,” Suren had explained, “And perhaps settle somewhere. Thank you for everything, but… I kind of want to live a normal life - as normal as someone like me can get, anyway.”

“You’ll find your place,” David had told him with fierce conviction, “If I can find a life outside of my early childhood, then you can, too.”

“You live far from a normal life, though,” Suren had pointed out with an amused smile.

David and Maya were stargazing, now. Maya reflected quietly on their farewell, and realised with a small pang in her heart that there was no way to properly contact the boy. No way to guarantee that they would see each other again.

Oh, well. She had enough resources to find him, if she really wanted to.

“What will you do next, Ducard?” 

The question came suddenly, startling Maya out of her musings. It was a pretty important question, now that she thought about it. What next for Maya Ducard? 

“Well, I personally think that I’ll stop being a mercenary-” David snorted from where he lay on the grass beside her. Goliath was snoring noisily behind them, “-even though I still have all my Nobody gear. Maybe I can be a superhero. Go and make a name for myself,” Maya mused.

“Make a name for yourself as Nobody? Nobody would hear about you.”

It took Maya a moment to realise that David had cracked a joke. Maya rolled her eyes, “Haha, very funny, D. How original.”

David chuckled, but took up a solemn tone, “In all seriousness, the name already has some bad reputation attached to it. Are you sure that you wouldn’t want to change your name?”

Maya pursed her lips. “Well, if people already think that the name has a bad rep, then all the more I should aim to change that,” Maya shrugged, “I’ll still be Maya Ducard, child of the first Nobody, no matter what superhero identity I use.”

David hummed in acknowledgement.

“What about you, hm? If you had to choose a hero name, what would be yours?”

The grass underneath David rustled as he shifted, stalling for time. “To be completely honest? I don’t know,” David admitted, “There is… a name that I have in mind, but I didn’t make it myself. If I were to become a hero of my own creation, I’d need a new name, one that I came up with myself. A name with some form of personal significance, or at least a personal meaning.”

“It’ll come to you,” Maya stated confidently, “I’m sure your creative brain will think of something.”

David huffed, and they lapsed into silence for a moment.

“Maybe I’ll go find my mother,” Maya considered thoughtfully, “I would ask you to come with me but, well, I want to do it alone.”

David clicked his tongue, “Tt. I understand. Matters of the family are solved by the family, and not by outsiders. It is the same for me, too.”

“Does that make me your family, since I helped you on your personal quest for atonement?” Maya teased. David paused, and Maya was sure that if she could see his eyes from where she was sprawled on the floor, they would have widened.

“Well…” David’s tone was cautious and considering, “Outside of my legal and biological family, you are the closest thing I have to… familial relations, on an emotional level. My siblings - my father’s children - they claim their closest friends are their second families.”

Maya turned herself onto her side so that she could meet David’s eye. She had to make sure David knew this was genuine.

“Well, then, I guess if I’m not able to find my mother,” Maya grinned, “You’ll still be my second family, yeah?”

David huffed, lips twitching into a smile, “Even if we are countries apart, yes, I guess so.”

“Can I call you little brother?”

“No. That is where I draw the line.”

~

Ducard had dragged Damian into the nearest city to “celebrate” the end of his year of atonement. 

“Goliath will get bored,” Damian protested, even as he allowed Ducard to drag him along the streets, doing what Brown had claimed to be “window shopping”. They did have some spare cash still, but they were both not intending to spend much on anything, besides a decent meal. 

“Goliath will be fine,” Ducard waved a hand dismissively, “We left him beside a river. The fish can keep him company.”

Damian huffed at the statement, adjusting his sunglasses as he peered into another storefront. 

Up ahead, Ducard stilled. Damian nearly bumped into her when she came bounding back towards him.

“Can your robe be dyed, D?”

Damian blinked at the question, scrunching his nose in confusion but still considering the query seriously. He recalled the prank that Todd often joked about, where he and Drake had teamed up to dye Grayson’s suit a hot pink. He also recalled the suits that he had glimpsed, some white for snow camouflage, others a mix of green and brown for forest camouflage.

“It should be possible,” Damian answered, and realised belatedly that the positive answer might have consequences. There was a gleam in Ducard’s eyes - they were at a point where Ducard was more likely to humiliate Damian than actively try to kill him. 

...Damian preferred the latter. He was at least prepared to deal with such circumstances.

“We should dye your robe - like a tie-dye shirt, but instead the pattern is on your robe,” Ducard grinned, waving a hand at the store she was standing in front of, “They sell shirt dyes in this shop!”

Damian scowled at the suggestion. “I do not want to look like an abomination - I have seen tie-dye T-shirts, and they are absolute monstrosities.” Correction: he had seen Grayson wearing some before, and they were absolutely hideous.

“Then don’t do the generic tie-dye pattern,” Ducard shot back, gesticulating wildly, “I’ve seen your sketchbook, and I know you can paint! C’mon, if it doesn’t work out, you can always bleach the robe later on.”

Damian considered the compromise. Nightwing’s costume was easily salvaged despite the bright colouration of the dye. Pennyworth could no doubt do the same once he returned home.

Oh, _hell_. He was going home very soon. The realisation hit him like a truck.

“Silence means consent,” Ducard sing-songed during Damian’s deliberation, and promptly dragged him into the store.

At first Damian picked out Robin colours - red, green and yellow. When he was reaching for red, though, he winced at how close the colour was to blood.

He reached instead for the light pink dye, hoping Ducard would not comment on his choice of colour. Ducard was unusually quiet, seeming content to let Damian choose whatever he wanted. Her gaze held no judgement.

Damian swapped out the yellow dye for blue, and proceeded to the counter.

“Do you have a plan?” Ducard questioned curiously, when they had returned to Goliath in the forest outside the city. Damian had pulled out his robe and laid it on the grassy floor before him.

“No, not really,” Damian admitted, holding up the three dyes that he had chosen. After a brief moment of deliberation, he dunked his robe in the river, drenching it thoroughly.

He used the dye sparingly, heavily diluted against the soaked robe, and spreading out in the way water colour paint would. Damian could work with that - he had experience with water colours.

He left white spaces surrounding the patches of ink, each dye making its own separate splotches. The back of the robe had a large patch of blue, and he accidentally dropped a small bit of pink, forming a splotch of light purple. Damian frowned and went with it. 

He smirked quietly as the purple spread and took shape. It looked vaguely like a pair of outspread wings. He set the dyes down and examined his work. 

The final product was far from tie-dye, but it was Damian’s own doing, and he was satisfied with the outcome.

“It looks great,” Ducard hummed behind him. Goliath crooned in what sounded like agreement.

“It almost looks like a painted canvas, or what I imagine them to look like, anyway. Ugh, I’m not one for metaphors and shit, but,” Ducard shoved Damian playfully with a warm smile, “I’d say we’ve filled your life with a lot of good things this past year, yeah? Like painting over a blank canvas.”

Damian was silent for a moment. 

“Canvas.”

Ducard blinked at Damian, even as he flashed a rare smile, “That will be my name, as a vigilante. Canvas. Perhaps the next time we cross paths in the future, it will be with that name, instead of David Fletcher.”

Ducard giggled brightly. “One day, I’ll find out what your real name is, D,” Ducard jabbed a finger at Damian’s chest, “Until then, I guess Nobody will be looking out for a new hero called Canvas.”

She tilted her head at the newly-dyed robe with a snicker, “You’ll be pretty obvious, anyway, if you keep that tie-dye look.”

“It’s not tie-dye. Tie-dyes are-“

“Absolute monstrosities, yeah, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian is very much AU-ed now, but I hope you guys still enjoyed! 
> 
> I just want to thank chiaravargas93 again for pointing me towards some helpful info about Suren Darga, who is also a character from this story arc in the comics. 
> 
> If anyone knows about Suren’s magic (how he uses it, what he normally uses it to do, any drawbacks or restrictions) I’d greatly appreciate that too!


End file.
